


The Extroardinary Tale of Jensen's Heroic Exploits

by daniomalley



Series: Pirates!verse [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Abuse, Dubious Consent, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 02:07:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daniomalley/pseuds/daniomalley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt on the kinkmeme, and originally posted on 19/12/11:<br/>Jensen is a fierce pirate captain. When he raids a very wealthy ship, the captain escapes, but Jensen takes the captain's son Jared captive to be his 'cabin boy' but Jared is cripplingly shy and terrified around Jensen, and Jared seems unnervingly familiar with what's 'expected' of Cabin boys, considering he's a captain's son. Then Jensen, discovers scars on Jared's body - whip marks, burns etc. The crew release Jared isn't the son of the captain but his slave/whore and find he was shared round the ship. To Jared's amazement the crew treat him kindly and look after him, becoming friend with him. Jared and Jensen fall in love but then Jared's old 'master' reappears, wanting his 'property' back, but Jensen is determined to keep his love safe<br/>Throw in any kinks you like!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Extroardinary Tale of Jensen's Heroic Exploits

I am the pirate captain Jensen Ackles, and this is the account of my deeds and my defeat of the vicious privateer, Captain Alistair Peters. It is not, despite what anyone may say, the story of how Captain Ackles turned from a ferocious pirate into a flower smelling lover of puppies or whatever such nonsense. Anyone who says otherwise should be disregarded, and possibly keel-hauled. Chris, are you paying attention?

Some four and twenty years ago, the nations of Turoq and Persage were waging a bitter war. Persage had founded a colony on the other side of the Worrin Ocean, and was shipping back any number of exotic and valuable items. It was a grand time to be a pirate. Now, the dispute originated from the claim that the Persagian colony was on land which rightfully belonged to Turoq. Turoq hired privateers to chase down the Persagian trade ships and take the goods which, they argued, were Turoqian property to begin with.

One such privateer was Captain Alistair Peters. His name was infamous at that time, and still to this day in the right circles. He has become a synonym for ruthless, gleeful cruelty. Now, a pirate, as any wise man should know, does best to act with discretion, and to take life only when he must. A pirate with a reputation for bloodlust will have a fight on his hands with every raid, and had best be prepared to replace his crew often. There was no sense behind Peters acting in such a manner, save that he took pleasure in cruelty. He would cold-bloodedly murder every sailor on every ship he boarded, even those who surrendered. Sometimes he would cast survivors adrift in their lifeboats, lighting fire to the captured ship so the sailors would have no hope of reaching land. Merchant sailors would abandon their cargo if he gave chase to them, in the hopes that he would lose interest, but he never did, and the popular theory, then as now, was that he took more pleasure from blood than from gold.

Worse than that, however, Peters would not confine his attacks to seagoing vessels, but would attack the smallest and most vulnerable coastal settlements. He would sail in under cover of darkness, and he and his men would murder the villagers who resisted, rape the women and steal the children away to sell as slaves.

Peters gained considerable enmity among many folk, not surprisingly. Nothing much was done about him, however. The Turoqian government did nothing to check him as long as he confined his violence to Persagian targets. The Persagian government took little interest because Peters concentrated on the poorest and weakest targets, not the wealthy traders who could afford protection.

Now, I am a pirate, and I hail from neither Turoq nor Persage. A pirate has allegiance only to himself, his crew and his ship. Nevertheless, it sat ill with me to know there was a man freely committing such wickedness. So when, one mild spring day, I spied a ship in the distance and perceived it to be Peters’ ship, the _Cat’s Eye_ , I counted myself fortunate for a chance to rid the seas of such a blight.

We gave chase and presently drew alongside. I spoke with my crew and gave them my orders. We were not intending to take prisoners; this sat poorly with some of my crew. It’s not our way, as I explained, but they understood the need. Every man aboard that ship, we were sure, had committed countless unspeakable crimes, and deserved the gallows at the very least.

It was a fierce battle, for Peters and his men knew they were fighting for their lives, and they fought back hard. I will record here the names of the good, brave men who fell that day: George Redbeard, who slew six men and was felled by a lucky shot from a coward’s pistol. Simon Houndsquall, who was the first to set foot on the _Cat’s Eye_ and was overwhelmed by three men. And James Hawkins. It was his first raid, and his last, and that is how it goes for many a pirate who never lives to split the booty.

These losses caused us grief, indeed, but the battle was won more easily than we expected. Finding ourselves without opposition, we spread out to inspect the vessel. We soon enough found that two lifeboats had been taken, and were being rowed from the ship in two opposing directions. My crew looked to me to decide which one to chase, knowing that we had but one chance in two of catching Peters and the other boat would escape. I directed my men to follow the boat which favoured our pursuit due to the wind, and not so long after we caught up to it.

Peters was not aboard it, of course. The three men who were drew their guns and made ready to fire upon us, but we were faster. We left the bodies for the sharks, and to anyone who is of a mind to criticise this decision, let me say that Peters never showed half so much mercy to anyone over whom he had power.

We made our way back to the _Cat’s Eye_ and set about exploring it in earnest. We took the cargo aboard the _Black Gazelle_ and stripped the ship of any part which might come in useful or improve my own vessel.

It was I who chose to enter Peters’ cabin and see if he had left any notes or correspondence by which I might gain information about him. I took the room at first to be empty; the light was dim and the cabin was in disarray, as though its occupants had left in haste. I rummaged through the papers and documents on the desk, finding little of interest. With time, my eyes grew accustomed to the low light and I spied a huddled form on the floor. Reacting with suspicion, I raised my pistol and commanded the figure to stand.

It is difficult, but I shall try to describe Jared as he appeared to me then. He was young. He looked around sixteen, which I later learned to be his correct age. He was tall; about as tall as myself, and I am of a respectable height. He was dressed in the same sorts of clothes that many sailors wear. His hair was too long to be tidy. He was too thin; even then I noticed it, though I didn’t think anything of it. Many men his age can appear gaunt as they grow too quickly to fill out the new clothes they constantly need. I did, and I didn’t have to live on sailor’s rations back then.

Beyond that, he was clearly terrified. Head down, he held his hands open to show they were empty and I could see them trembling. Again, I could have noticed that, wondered at it, but I didn’t. Pirates can be fearsome enough at the best of times, and we had already killed most of the rest of the crew. I thought to myself, ‘That’s right! Now do you wish you had shown an ounce of mercy once in your worthless life, that we might show the same favour to you?’

For all that I missed several clues, I was noticing other things, and added them up to a laughably false conclusion. The boy was in the captain’s cabin, hiding. The average deckhand wouldn’t dare contemplate such a thing, and this man was too young to be anything else. He had dark hair and dark eyes to match the broad descriptions I’d heard of Peters himself, and I knew the man had a son. I couldn’t remember his name. I thought it was John or Jacob or some other such thing. I had thought he was older than the boy in front of me, but simply supposed I had been mistaken. I came to the victorious and preposterous conclusion that the young man in front of me was Mr Peters Junior.

Brimming with excitement, I motioned the boy out of the door with my pistol, commanding him at the same time with a brusque, “Out.” I herded him out onto the deck at gunpoint, and towards the first man I saw, which happened to be Mike.

“Take this,” I said, giving the kid a shove in Mike’s direction, “and put him in the brig.”

“The brig?” repeated Mike, a hesitation in his voice revealing that there would be some problem with this arrangement. I looked back at him and raised my eyebrows impatiently. “If we put him in the brig, where will we put the rum?”

This question likely tells you all you need to know about Michael Rosenbaum.

“The rum? Well, how much is there?”

“Well,” began Mike, “We had two barrels, but a week ago we docked at Port Neptune, and so Chad and I, we thought we’d better get another. Just in case. And then Tom traded those wool bales for another two barrels, because he thinks we’ll be able to trade them in Doubloon for a better price, and also, Sophia’s been keeping a few skins of wine down there. She says it’s more secure in there, but I think...”

“Mike!” I barked, when it became clear that he wasn’t going to stop any time soon. “I don’t give a damn what you do. Find somewhere else, or I’ll have it tipped overboard. Didn’t you think that we might need the brig for, you know, locking up prisoners?”

“Well, not really,” said Mike. “We never do. Never really have any prisoners to lock up.” Having said this, he fixed the kid with an intense stare, as though he were a specimen of some previously unknown breed. “Come on,” he said, taking the kid by the shoulder. “It’s to lockup with you.”

With that taken care of, we had concluded all necessary business aboard the _Cat’s Eye_ , and so we set the ship alight and returned to the _Gazelle_. I was on the bridge, attending to important captainly duties, when I was approached by my first mate, Chris.

“There’s a young man locked up in the brig,” he said to me quietly.

“Ah, yes!” I answered. “The captain’s son. I thought he might be useful.”

Chris raised his eyebrows. “He’s the captain’s son? What’s his name... James? Joseph?”

“I thought it was Jacob? And I’m pretty sure. I found him in the captain’s cabin. The kid looks enough like him.”

Chris looked thoughtful. “If that kid is really Peters’ son...”

“Yeah. We can put a stop to his raiding, we can muzzle the bastard. All we need do is get a message to him to explain the situation.”

 “Right,” agreed Chris. “So then, it had nothing to do with the kid’s pretty face?”

At this point I fixed Chris with a steely glare, from which he quailed.       

“What do you mean to do with him, then?” asked Chris. “Leave him in the brig? Only, Mike’s put the rum in the crew’s hold, and that’s going to work great up until he and Chad drink the lot in one go.”

I heaved a sigh of exasperation. “I’ll go check on the kid,” I said. “Hey, Tom! Come take the helm.”

Below decks, I found Jared sitting on the floor of the tiny cell, one leg curled under him as he hugged the other to his chest. I barked at him; “You! On your feet!” and he lurched backwards, scrambling to his feet and banging his elbows in the process. I took this to mean that he apprehended my plans and was rightly frightened by them; perhaps I took some pleasure in the opportunity to avenge the many wrongs committed by him and his father. I marched the boy up on deck, and in the light I couldn’t help but notice his pleasing appearance, it is true. But I certainly did not allow this to affect my decisions in any way. Coincidentally, at this point it displeased me that I still did not know the kid’s name, and I sought to correct this.

“What’s your name, boy?” I asked.

The kid mumbled an answer, but it was lost in the breeze and the sound of the waves breaking against the ship. “Speak up!” I ordered sharply.

“It’s J-Jared,” the kid stammered. He spoke just loudly enough to be heard, and his voice shook. I’ll confess I was shamefully pleased, still, that one who had caused such terror in others, as I thought, was now experiencing it himself.

“This way,” I said. I led Jared towards my own cabin, and securely manacled him to one of the supports of the bunk. I ensured that all possible weapons and any other items were safely out of reach, and, when the kid stood there motionless, I said to him “Sit.”

Jared looked around him and at the bunk, and then sat on the floor by its foot. This was when I noticed other details, other clues as I came to think of them. He was barefoot, as most sailors would be. I do most often go barefoot myself when at sea, but I would not expect as much of a wealthy man like Peters, nor would I expect it of his son. This made me think the captain was a man not inclined to nepotism; one who would have his offspring earn their status the same as the rest of the crew. This was supported by the clothing Jared wore, which was plain, even worn, but not ragged. It was no worse than what any sailor in my crew may have worn. I was intrigued that, although the captain seemed to have no penchant for favouritism, Jared had chosen his cabin as a place to hide when the ship was attacked. I put it down to a moment of cowardice on the kid’s part, and thought no more of it.

The boy raised his head after a moment, although he still did not look me in the eye. “What do you want with me?” he asked.

“Thought you’d make me a fine cabin boy,” I said cruelly. Jared ducked his head down again, but didn’t react beyond that, and I wondered if he really understood what I was implying. He didn’t seem to, and I thought him a most singularly inexperienced young man. “You stay here,” I said pointlessly, before marching out of the cabin and away from the kid’s fearful demeanour.

 

I had a further two hours to stand watch, and as I was going about my duties, Chris found me once more, wanting to know the details of my plans for Jared.

“We’ll need to get a message to Peters somehow,” I said. “You know, explain the situation to him. The next ship or colony he attacks, we’ll take one of his son’s eyes. Then a hand. You get the idea. We can send him the pieces in a box.”

Chris gave my ingenious plan due consideration and then proceeded to point out flaws, as he is wont to do. “The men didn’t like killing Peters’ crew, but they understood it. But this...”

“I know!” I wasn’t thrilled with the plan myself, but it was a desperate time.

“And who’s going to do the chopping?”

“Uh...” I’ll admit to not having thought that far ahead myself. “Well, Misha’s the surgeon...”

“Misha is a borderline lunatic who stole a medical kit on a raid once. I respect him, for sure, but a surgeon he’s not.”

“Well, anyway... it might not even come to that. Peters probably won’t want to risk us hurting his son.”

“Maybe.” Chris looked doubtful. “But I think we should be prepared for him to try to call our bluff. If we want him to take us seriously, we should send one of Jared’s eyes with the first message, just to show we mean it.”

“Uh...” Chris’s suggestion made the whole proposition a lot more immediate and unpleasant. “Well, who says it has to be Jared’s eye anyway? Will he know the difference? We could just...”

“What? Send him one of the spares we have lying around?”

“Uhhh...” I glared at Chris. “I _am_ the captain, you know.”

“Sorry, sir.” Chris grinned, completely unrepentant.

We came to no satisfactory conclusion at that time, and I pondered it as I worked the rest of the watch. I returned to my cabin out of sorts, and found Jared sitting where I had left him; head leaned over to rest on the foot of the bunk, breathing evenly. I watched the kid sleep for a minute or two, before shutting the cabin door with enough force that he stirred. When Jared saw me, he startled a bit and straightened up.

I pondered what to do with him. I deemed it a bad idea to keep him around the cabin while I was there; if I did continue on the course I had planned it was best not to become too familiar with him. I unfastened Jared’s manacles and lead the way out of the cabin, with a brusque order to “Come!” The kid hurried after me. I found Chris up on deck, and walked up to him.

“Chris,” I said, “Find something for Jared to do, will you?”

Chris gave me a look. I responded with a look of my own to indicate that he had best do as ordered; and at least try to show some respect for the post of captain, and, what, did he want to run the ship? So, with that task managed, I returned to my cabin to rest in peace. The time passed quietly, I ate in the mess with the rest of the starboard watch and then we went up on deck to take last dog watch while the others ate. Chris explained that Jared was occupied and I gave it no more thought, ended my watch at eight o’clock and returned to my cabin to sleep.

I woke when I heard persistent knocking at the door. I sat up, disoriented and blinking, and opened the door to see Chris on the other side. “What?” I asked grumpily.

“Jensen,” said Chris. “Thought you should know... Jared...”

“What?” I asked. “What did he do? Where is he?”

“Nothing. And he’s with Misha.”

“Misha!” I exclaimed. “What happened?”

“Well,” said Chris, taking a deep breath. “I wasn’t sure what to do with the kid. I was gonna have him work at mending the ropes, but he was useless at that. No idea. And then I stuck him in the galley, but that only lasted for half an hour before Jim sent him back. Said the kid had burned water and broken three bowls.”

I laughed despite myself. “So?” I asked, wanting Chris to get to the point.

“So, I sent him down to pump the bilges. Figured even he couldn’t screw that up. But I sent Tom to check on him just now, and he found the kid’s hands all bloody and blistered. Misha’s just checking him over, but he’s not going to be much use for anything else for awhile, and I wasn’t sure what you’d want me to do, if I should send him back to your cabin or what.”

I sighed. I didn’t really want the kid back in my cabin again, but there was nowhere else to put him and I didn’t fancy leaving him unsupervised. “Yes, send him back here.”

“Okay.” Chris hesitated at the door. “Jensen, don’t you think there’s something a bit off about him?” he asked eventually.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he’s dressed like a deckhand, but his hands are soft. They look like he’s never done a hard day’s work in his life, until today. His feet, too.”

“Well,” I speculated. “Maybe he’s just a shirker. He probably got away with it, being the captain’s son.”

“Maybe,” said Chris dubiously. “I don’t think so. He’s been working the pumps all day, and he didn’t complain, even when Tom went to check on him. If Tom hadn’t noticed the blood, he’d still be down there.”

I grimaced, but wasn’t convinced. “He’s probably just trying to stay on our good side. Probably knew better than to try any excuses with me.”

Chris laughed out loud at that. “Yes, I’m sure that’s it. Oh, thanks for the laugh, Jensen.”

“I am your captain, you know.”

“Be careful here, Captain,” said Chris seriously. “There’s something not right about this.”

It was close to midnight and I was tired and cantankerous when another knock sounded at my door. It was Chris, who opened the door without waiting for a reply or any regard for privacy, and nudged Jared inside. He left with a significance laden look directed my way. I didn’t know what to make of Chris’s cryptic and vaguely threatening glances, so I focused my attention on Jared. The kid was looking at the ground, standing with his shoulders hunched and his hands dangling at his sides.

“Let me see,” I said. “Your hands,” I clarified when the kid didn’t move.

Jared held his hands out toward me, palms up. I could see that the right one had broken skin in several places; and several more intact blisters. The left hand had a few small blisters, but was less severely injured than the right. Misha had apparently cleaned Jared’s hands but not thought it necessary to bandage them; but I could see why he had sent Jared in to rest. The damage the kid had managed to do in a few hours was impressive.

“You really did a number on them,” I remarked. The kid flinched and pulled his hands away.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said. I sat back in the chair, struggling with the conundrum of what to do with Jared now, and idly wondering when he had started calling me sir. He looked at me face for what I thought was the first time, looking up through his shaggy hair, head still tilted down. He licked his lips, in a way that almost seemed coquettish. I wondered for a moment if the kid were trying to seduce me, right up until he knelt in front of me.

“I still have a mouth,” Jared breathed, glancing up at me once more. He ran his fingertips over the buttons of my pants...

This is one of those things I debated writing about when I started making a record of these events. I had told Jared that I wanted him for my cabin boy, but I wasn’t being serious. I’d never been one to force my attentions where they were unwelcome. At least, that’s the idea I had of myself, the standard I held myself to.

Yet I knew Jared wasn’t making advances because of attraction. He was doing it to curry favour, to save his own skin maybe. If he had the slightest inkling what our plans for him were, he must have been desperate to avoid that fate. I was well aware of that. But I justified it to myself.

Oh, I thought, a few hours of hard work and he thinks he’ll have an easier time of it on his knees. Just what I’d expect from the son of a cretin like Peters. He thinks he can manipulate me, I thought, well, let him try. Once he realises I’m not going to treat him any differently, he likely won’t attempt this again anyway.

Jared insists that he has forgiven me, that there was nothing to forgive in the first place, that I am being too harsh with myself. I take this as evidence that we still have much work to do. One day, perhaps, Jared will see me for the wretch that I am, and take his leave. I dread that day, but I almost want it, also. It will be proof that I have succeeded, and that Jared has succeeded in slaying the last of his demons.

So, to return to this sordid part of the tale, I was resolved not to let Jared’s actions influence my treatment of him or my plans for him, no matter how surprisingly skilful he turned out to be. For, although I had, at first, due to Jared’s nervousness, taken him to be inexperienced and innocent in such matters, he soon demonstrated that that was far from being the case. It tickled me to think of Jared getting into such mischief behind his affluent father’s back, and I will claim the not entirely unreasonable excuse that, after such a remarkable experience, my wits were not completely about me. Thus, you see, my first words in the aftermath were “Does your father know what you can do with that mouth?”

Jared’s reaction was immediate. He flinched, spots of bright colour bloomed on his cheeks, he curled in on himself. I felt badly. A minute’s thought had made me realise just what a crass question I had asked. Still, when I thought of the ills Jared and his father had committed, I could not feel any more than token sympathy at the sight of Jared’s discomfort. In hindsight, now, I can guess what Jared was thinking and feeling in that moment, and guilt is my bitter companion.

At the time, I supposed that it was causing Jared some pain that his father had essentially abandoned him, and I did feel badly for my insensitive words. Searching for something to say, I asked Jared, “Are you tired?” Jared didn’t reply, but I figured he must be tired, after working a full eight hours. “Here,” I said, leading him towards the bunk. I chained him with the manacles to the bunk, and encouraged him to sit down. “You can lie down. Get some rest. Oh, have you had anything to eat? Chris said you were in the galley.”

Jared looked at me with huge eyes. “No- I- no,” he stammered. “I... I’m sorry. About the bowl.”

Now, it did cross my mind to make out that the loss of a bowl was a source of great displeasure to me, but Jared appeared so distraught that I simply couldn’t find the will to do so. “It’s not important,” I said. “Sit. I’ll bring you some food.”

I went to the galley, which was empty of course. Jim would have long been in bed by then, and would be up at five to prepare breakfast. I poked around and loaded a plate with biscuit, salted fish, and an orange. I filled a mug with water and carried the meal back to my cabin.

Inside, Jared sat on my bunk. I closed the door and tried to hand him the plate. Jared, for his part, looked at the plate like he’d never seen one before, and made no move to take it. “It’s for eating off,” I said helpfully. “Don’t worry, it’s tin so you can’t break it.” At this, Jared’s hands actually began to shake, so I gave up and set it on the bunk beside him. I felt quite misjudged, for I hadn’t been attempting to intimidate Jared at all, yet he seemed to take my comment to be most threatening. His eyes darted from the plate to his hands, resting on his knees, and back again. After a minute of this, irritation started to churn inside me. “It may not be what you were used to eating on the _Cat’s Eye_ ,” I said, “But it’s not _poison_ , for heaven’s sake!”

Jared jumped and reached for the plate, sitting it on his knee. It took him a moment to arrange the plate so he could eat with one hand chained up and the other injured, but he managed it in the end. As he reached over with his left hand, the manacle slid up his wrist, dragging the sleeve of Jared’s shirt up. I noticed a mark on the back of his wrist, dark red and curved at one end. It looked like a burn scar, and I asked Jared, “How did you do that?”

Jared didn’t seem to realise what I was talking about at first, but followed my gaze. “Oh,” he said, biting his lower lip and seeming almost embarrassed. “I was... careless.”

With all the evidence available to me, I was concluding that Jared was clumsy. “You can’t go about being ham-handed forever, Jared,” I said jovially. “Jim said you broke three bowls today.”

Jared’s head flew up, a shocked expression on his face. “It was only one!” he protested loudly. As soon as he’d finished speaking, Jared blanched and began to shake. “I’m sorry,” he said in a near whisper. “Sorry, sorry.”

I was startled by the reaction my joking had produced. “It’s okay, Jared,” I said. “I was only joking around, really.”

Jared didn’t seem to hear me, though. “So sorry,” he mumbled. “Sorry.” His breathing had grown shallow and I was worried.

“Jared,” I said, easing closer to sit directly in front of him. “Look at me.”

Eventually, Jared did look up, and after a little bit longer, his eyes focused on me. I grinned crookedly. “It’s fine,” I said soothingly. “Really, I’m not mad or anything. It’s just a stupid bowl. Jim loves to exaggerate. It’s really... you don’t have to...”

Jared seemed a fraction calmer but his voice still shook a bit as he replied. “Shouldn’t have argued.”

“Hell,” I snorted, “A bit longer on this ship and you’ll see people argue with me all the time. Why should you be any different?”

Jared didn’t say anything in reply to that and I congratulated himself on averting the immediate crisis. “I really do have to go on watch,” I said. “You get some rest. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.” Jared looked so disconsolate that I couldn’t help but try to reassure him. I encouraged Jared to lie on the bed, and left the rest of the meal nearby in case he felt like eating more later on.

The ship’s bell rang to signify the start of the watch, and I left the cabin. The weather was mild and the watch passed peacefully, which was nice, but also gave me far too much time to think. What I was thinking was that I had misjudged the Jared situation badly. Chris had warned me, but I hadn’t listened. I was also coming to the conclusion that I wasn’t going to be taking a knife to Jared, or allowing anyone else to do so, anytime soon. Although I had been determined not to, I had developed feelings of affection and protectiveness towards him.

After four hours spent with little to fill them, I returned to my cabin and stepped inside. A sour odour assaulted my nostrils. I lit the lantern and inspected the room. I could see a sticky puddle on the floor by the bed. Jared sat on the edge of the bunk with his head hanging and his hands clutching, white knuckled, at the mattress.

“What happened?” I asked mildly.

Jared actually shuddered when I spoke, and kept shivering as he answered. “I’m sorry. Really, I....” He went on, in a repeat of four hours earlier, apologies tumbling over his lips as he seemed to become more and more distraught.

“You got sick?” I asked. “Did you get seasick? I don’t... I’d have thought you’d have your sea legs by now.”

“Sorry,” mumbled Jared. “I made a mess on your floor. And I wasted your food. Sorry. I was going to clean it up, but I didn’t have anything... I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said, putting aside my confusion in the face of Jared’s obvious distress. “Easy enough to clean up, I’ll just get...” I moved around the cabin looking for a cloth, only half aware that Jared was doing something over by the bunk. I found a suitable rag and turned back towards the bunk. Jared was pulling at the hem of his shirt with his free hand, and had it up to his shoulders. I opened my mouth to say something, like “No need to use your shirt, I’ve got a rag right here,” but instead I just stood there like a fool, because Jared had turned, and I could see the mess of scars and welts that covered his back from his shoulders to the waist of his pants.

I think this account will make me appear to be a fool. There was a minute where I stood, astonished that Captain Peters would subject his own son to such harsh treatment, and wondering what on earth Jared could have done to warrant it. This passed quickly, as I pieced the things I knew together. I couldn’t imagine Jared doing anything to provoke anger or disapproval. I didn’t know him well, of course, but I had formed that impression strongly, nevertheless. And, once the shock of seeing the scars had passed, I realised I could see Jared’s ribs sticking out above his concave stomach. He wasn’t merely thin, he was downright skeletal. I could see the empty plate, which Jared had evidently cleared and then set aside. No wonder he’d been sick.

Jared stood motionless by the bed, waiting. He turned his head slightly and asked me, “Are you going to punish me now?”

“What?” I said. “No!” I put a hand on Jared’s shoulder. “Sit,” I said firmly, and Jared obeyed instantly. “Be still.” I thought for a moment to figure out what I should ask, and how. “Why were you on the Cat’s Eye?” I asked.

Jared didn’t look up, but I could see his forehead crease slightly. “I was Captain Peters’ cabin boy,” he replied, and I could feel things start to make much more sense.

“I thought he was your father,” I admitted.

“Oh,” said Jared. He didn’t show much reaction to this piece of information. “He’s not?” His voice rose at the end, as though he were asking my permission.

“Yeah,” I said. “I get that.” _Now_ , an internal voice added snidely. “Listen, Jared, maybe this won’t mean much to you, but no-one on this ship is going to make you do anything you don’t want to do.” I guiltily contemplated the fact that I had already made Jared do something he didn’t want to do, and wondered how I could expect him to believe me.

Jared just looked confused. “I thought you wanted me to be your cabin boy,” he said.

“Yeah, um. Not, not really, I, uh. I was just trying to scare you.” I hoped for the conversation to soon be over.

“Oh,” said Jared, in a small voice. He didn’t add the words, ‘It worked,’ but I heard them anyway. Jared frowned suddenly. “But then,” he said, “why did you take me?”

Now, I had been hoping to get away without mentioning this part, but it was natural for Jared to ask. “We were going to, um, blackmail your father. Er, that is, Captain Peters. By threatening you.”

“Oh.” Jared looked troubled. “I don’t think that would work.” I had already figured that much out from the scars on the kid’s body. “But,” he suggested, “You could ransom me. Captain Peters might pay some money to get me back. Probably not a lot...”

“I’m not giving you back to him.” I knew that much without even needing to contemplate it. The protective feelings I had begun to develop were now in full bloom, and I was fairly determined that no one should ever cause harm to Jared again.

Jared looked like he was working up the nerve to ask me another question. I imagined he wanted to know what would happen to him now, but at that point I had not the slightest idea what to do next. Jared merely swallowed several times and remained silent, so I decided to let the matter rest. I picked up the empty plate and a thought occurred to me.

“When did you last eat?” I asked.

“Uh...” said Jared. “The day before yesterday? I had some dried meat. And some cheese.”

“Okay.” I decided then that what Jared needed was something to eat. Not a plate of heavy food like I’d given him before. It was not yet two bells into the morning watch, and Jim was probably still asleep. I knew he would be as grumpy as a bear if I roused him early, but I didn’t want to wait for him to get up, so I headed to the crew’s sleeping quarters and found Jim fast asleep.

I was correct, he was in a terrible mood once woken, but I explained what I wanted and he got to work preparing it, albeit with plenty of sour remarks. Shortly afterwards, I left the galley with a small bowl of watery porridge.

In the cabin, I removed the manacles so Jared could eat more easily. Nevertheless, it took some coaxing to persuade him to do so. He looked almost scared at the sight of more food. When, two thirds of the way through, Jared started to eat more slowly, I asked if he’d had enough, and he nodded. I took the bowl away.

“You got sick before from eating too much in one go,” I explained. “You need to eat just a little bit, but more often. I’ll get some more in an hour or so. Now, move over.”

Jared looked alarmed, but I gestured and he shuffled to the other side of the bunk. I laid down on the edge and pulled the blankets over both of us. I was tired and wanted to get what sleep I could before going back on watch. I lay on my side, waiting, and wasn’t surprised when Jared’s fingers gently touched my hip. I clasped his hand gently in my own and pushed it back towards him. “Just sleep, Jared,” I said.  
  
  
 

  
 

I woke at six bells, feeling worse than when I’d laid down. I got up off the bunk, and looked down at Jared. He was still asleep, and I decided to leave him there and bring breakfast back to the cabin rather than subjecting him to the rest of the crew just yet.

I returned with more porridge for Jared and a more substantial breakfast for myself. I couldn’t abide porridge for myself, not unless it was made with milk, and we had no milk on board. I felt bad for giving Jared such unappetising fare again, so I had taken a little of our precious stash of honey to drip across the top.

Jared was still asleep when I returned. It occurred to me that he had less sleep than I, and I hadn’t slept much either. I whispered, “Jared,” and he stirred. When he opened his eyes, I gave him the bowl and set about eating my own breakfast. I noticed that the more absorbed I appeared to be in my own meal, the more Jared ate, so I half turned away and pretended that I wasn’t watching from the corner of my eye. Like earlier, Jared eventually started taking very small mouthfuls from the bowl, and I said, “Just leave the rest if you’ve had enough.” Jared flinched like he’d forgotten I was still in the room, and put the bowl down.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. I was, for a moment, undone by the naked gratitude in his voice, as though I’d given him a bowl full of gold, not porridge. I resolved that he should have another bowl once the port watch had finished in the mess.

The time came for the fore-noon watch, and I said to Jared, “Follow me,” and led the way to the door. As I closed my hand around the doorknob, I heard Jared’s small voice. “Are...?” I turned around and nodded to Jared to continue. Jared swallowed and went on. “Are you going to give me to the crew?” He looked terrified.

“No,” I said. “No, I’m not going to do that.”

Jared swallowed again, but didn’t speak, and I walked through the door and waited for Jared to follow me. I led the way to the mizzen-mast at the rear of the ship and looked down to the other end  where Mike and Tom were unfurling the fore topsail. They were up high in the rigging and I could just make out their silhouettes against the slowly brightening sky. I looked to his side and saw that Jared was watching them too, with an expression of awe on his face.

“You’ve never done any ship work, then?” I asked.

“No,” said Jared. “Captain Peters, uh, he didn’t want my hands roughened up.” Jared held his hands up to show the still healing blisters.

I examined Jared’s hands as he held them up to judge how well they were mending. They seemed well enough, looked clean and there wasn’t too much redness, although I suspected they were still sore. I resolved not to tax his healing hands too heavily, and said, “You can help me with this,” nodding up at the mast we were standing next to.

Jared looked up the mast nervously. “You want me to climb up there?” he asked, only a slight tremor in his voice betraying his reluctance.

“No,” I said. “You stay down here. I’ll go aloft, and let down the sail. You see these lines?” I asked, indicating the lines on the port side.  Jared nodded, and I continued, “Wait here, then. Once the sail is let down, we have to lower it.” I showed Jared how to let the lines out so that the sail’s bottom edge could be lowered down. I climbed up into the rigging and edged out along the yard. It had been a while since I’d done this, although I made it a point to share in most of the regular sailor’s duties. I balanced in the footropes carefully, and released the sail one knot at a time. When both sides were loose, I climbed back down to the deck and with a nod to Jared, began letting out the clewlines and buntlines on the starboard side, slowly to give Jared time to keep up. The sail lowered down slowly and a bit jerkily, but eventually it was all the way down and starting to catch the wind. I tied off the lines and then headed over to help Jared do the same.

Jared cast a nervous glance my way as I came near, so I made sure to tell Jared he’d done well. “That’s good,” I said. “Leave a bit of slack in the lines.” I judged the direction of the wind and adjusted the tautness of the lines accordingly. “Now, you tie them off like this.” I tied the clewline off to show Jared the knot. I repeated it on one of the buntlines, and then got Jared to try on another one. Jared did his best, but after three failed efforts his hands start shaking too badly, and I gently plucked the rope from his hands. “It’s okay,” I said, “Takes practice. First time I did this, I got the knots wrong without realising, and the whole lot came loose an hour later.” I tied off the last line quickly and looked down the length of the boat to see what the rest of the crew was doing. I could see Mike and Tom working the main-mast now. I couldn’t see Chad, and figured he was most likely at the helm. I judged that the mess was likely empty now, and led Jared back for something else to eat before going on to our next task.

Once Jared had eaten another small portion of porridge, I led him to the helm where I expected to find Chad. Chad was indeed standing at the helm, with one hand on the wheel and a bored expression on his face. I hesitated over leaving Jared with Chad, because Chad was not exactly the most reliable or tactful or level-headed person aboard, but I needed to check that the ship’s heading was correct, and that was something which I felt would likely only bore and confuse Jared.

“Chad,” I said cheerfully. “This is Jared.” Chad gave me a look which conveyed that he knew perfectly well who Jared is, and couldn’t understand why I was introducing them. I have never met any gossip who could rival an idle sailor. “Keep an eye on him, ok?” I said. “Tell him about the rudder or something.” Chad gave me a look best described as insubordinate, and I pretended I didn’t see it, because telling Chad not to be insubordinate is like telling the ocean not to be salty. I grabbed Chad’s shoulder and tugged him closer so I could speak to him without Jared overhearing. “Don’t be an asshole, ok?” I said. “Captain Peters isn’t his father.” Chad blinked at me and I knew he didn’t really understand, but I also knew Chad wouldn’t be unkind to Jared and would also take care of passing the message on to the rest of the crew. This is why I put up with a crew which only remembers that I’m the captain when it suits them. Their loyalty is something I’ve never had to question.

I spent an hour or so calculating the ship’s route. It was not my favourite task, but it fell to me as the captain and there was no-one else on board who could do it, save perhaps Jeff in an emergency. I emerged from my cabin after it was done and headed for the helm, where I could see that Chad had been relieved by Mike, and Jared was still there. I had a slight sinking feeling as I got near them and could see that Mike is talking rapidly. “So then,” I heard as I got close, “ _She_ says, ‘oh, now I see why they call you Long John Silver!’”

I stared at Mike, who looked around, saw me, and gave a small wave. I looked over to Jared, who was staring at his feet while his face slowly turned bright red. I stepped closer, because I was not quite sure what Jared was going to do and wanted to be ready if he made a run for it. I could see Jared’s lip quiver slightly, and then, although it was so faint I doubted my ears, Jared gave a soft laugh.

Mike heard it too, though, so I knew I wasn’t imagining things. “You heard that, right?” he exclaimed. “Man, I’ve been up here since two bells trying to get this kid to crack a smile! Hardest work I’ve ever done!”

“Now that,” I said dryly, “I don’t have a hard time believing at all.” Mike gave an affronted gasp, but I knew it was just for show. “Anyway,” I said, “I’ve come to rescue Jared from your no doubt charming company.” I smiled Jared’s way, but Jared didn’t return the smile. His face had resumed its sombre expression and he kept his gaze down.

I made sure that Jared had a little more to eat, and wondered what to do with him next. I hadn’t wanted to leave Jared with Mike for too long, but I wasn’t sure what else to do with him. I had, at this time, begun to form ideas of teaching Jared the various skills that sailors knew to do their work. It would keep him busy at least. And it would be a good idea for him to meet the rest of the crew. He’d already met Chris, Jim, Misha, Chad and Mike, so with that in mind, I went looking for Tom.

I found Tom as he was heading below decks to clean the cannons and other weapons. The guns needed to be cleaned thoroughly at least once a day so they didn’t rust, and it was Tom’s turn. He didn’t look too thrilled about it, which I understood. It was tedious work. Still, I didn’t feel too guilty about handing Jared off. I needed to think.

“Tom!” I said cheerily.

Tom looked around, smiled and waved. “Captain,” he said. Tom is a fine and upstanding man with a genuine respect for the rank of captain, and the rest of my crew could benefit from his stellar example.

“I’ve got some help for you,” I said. “This is Jared. Show him the ropes, get him to sift the gunpowder or something.”

Tom looked at Jared curiously, but didn’t say anything, simply nodding. I didn’t explain the change in plans to Tom. It was rather cowardly of me, but I was hoping he would hear from someone else, and in the meantime I knew he wouldn’t be unkind to Jared, it wasn’t in his nature.

Once the two of them had gone, I went looking for a task to occupy myself for the next hour or so while I considered what to do with Jared. At six bells, I was no nearer a solution, so I finished what I was doing and headed for the mess where the port watch were having lunch. Chris was there, sitting with Steve and Jeff.

“Chris,” I said, “Could you bring your meal to my stateroom?” I gave Chris an apologetic look for interrupting his meal, and piled up a plate for myself, ignoring Jim’s glare.

Once in my cabin, we balanced our plates on our knees and set about eating. “So,” Chris says, “What couldn’t wait?”

I twisted my hands together, considering what to say. “It’s Jared,” I blurted at last. “He’s not Captain Peters’ son.”

Chris nodded slightly and kept eating. His lack of evident surprise wakened suspicion in me, and I barked, “Did you know?”

“No!” replied Chris. “Of course not. I wouldn’t keep something like that to myself. But I can’t say I’m surprised. I could see something wasn’t right.”

I understood. It wasn’t fair to get angry with Chris when he had tried to tell me of his concerns and I hadn’t listened. But that made the situation no easier to tolerate

“Peters kept him as his cabin boy, his...” I let the sentence trail off without finishing it. Chris just nodded again, looking serious. “What are we going to do now? God, when I think what I was planning for him – I never even asked who he was, just assumed...”

“Jensen,” said Chris sharply. “Just... don’t. Peters’ son deserves it, every bit. You couldn’t have trusted Jared to admit the truth if his father were Peters, not without proof. He’d have to know too well what was in store for him. You did the only thing you could.”

I nodded, knowing that Chris spoke the truth, but guilt still gnawed at me. “What do you want to do with him?” asked Chris. “What does Jared want?”

I smiled humourlessly. “When I talked to him, he said he didn’t think Peters would respond to blackmail, but he might pay ransom to get Jared back.”

Chris looked at me. “Are you going to...”

“No! God, Chris.”

“Ok. Just wondered.”

“He must have family somewhere. Someone that’s missing him. We should try to find them.” I tried to ignore the small twinge I felt facing the idea of Jared leaving, and convince myself to do the right thing.

“Yeah,” agreed Chris. “That’s a good place to start. You should talk to the kid, find out what he wants.” The expression on Chris’s face said that I should have been able to figure this out on my own. I had to admit to myself that I had figured this out as soon as I’d heard Jared’s story, but I was afraid of facing Jared and my own guilt. I changed the topic to the ship and we became absorbed in discussion until I was surprised to hear the ship’s bell ring eight times. I hadn’t thought that so much time had passed.

“That’ll be my cue,” said Chris, standing up and holding his empty plate in one hand.

“I’ll take that,” I offered. “I need to find Jared anyway, and you need to get on watch.”

I carried our plates back to the mess, and as I reached it I saw Tom with Jared close behind him.  Tom sent Jared to sit at the table and began filling two plates. I was pleased to see that someone else was looking out for Jared, but it occurred to me that I had already taken my midday meal, and had no particular reason to join the rest of the crew in the mess. I wondered how Jared would cope with being around the rest of the crew.

Jared looked up and saw me, and moved to get up from the bench. I gestured at him to stay where he was, and he froze for a moment, half standing, before he sat back down. I glanced around and saw that Tom had witnessed this exchange. He gave me a slight nod, and I knew he would watch over Jared during the meal.

As I watched the crew settle at the table, I could see that they had already accepted Jared amongst them. Mike and Chad directed comments his way. They didn’t seem to expect replies, and Jared didn’t respond, but the conversation sort of flowed around him. Tom put a plate in front of him and encouraged Jared to eat. Mike put an orange quarter in his mouth and grinned brightly at everyone. When he turned Jared’s way, I could see that he actually laughed. Only a little, but I was watching closely and spotted it.

I realised that I was cut off from the rest of the crew in a way that I wasn’t used to, despite being the captain. It occurred to me that if I went over and joined the others at the table, as I often did, Jared would become tense, would start watching every move I made and he made. The rest of the crew seemed to be getting him to open up in a way that I couldn’t. Over the next few weeks we learned that Jared was the only man aboard who actually seemed to enjoy Chad’s crazy stories, although I’ve always suspected he was just too polite to shut Chad down as the rest of us did. (Jared denies it, but still, this is the most logical explanation if you ask me.) We learned that Mike could get a smile out of Jared when no-one else could manage it, and that Tom was the best at calming him down when he thought he’d done something wrong. There were times when I felt extraneous, as though the others were such great help to Jared that there was little need for me to be involved at all, but as it turned out, that was foolish insecurity on my part. It was not that I wanted Jared to rely solely upon me; at least, I recognised that that was an unreasonable thing to want. But, starting then, I did begin to imagine myself unneeded, and that hurt.

Anyway, I found one task or another to occupy myself for the next hour to justify my presence near the mess, although I was technically off duty. (Only technically, a captain is never truly off duty.) When the crew began leaving the mess, I approached Jared and said “I need to talk to you. In my cabin?”

I gave my nod of thanks to Tom and led Jared back to my cabin, where I stood stupidly, not knowing where to begin. I managed to say, “Jared,” and then trailed off, not sure how to continue.

Jared’s eyes darted from side to side. “Do you...” he began. “Should I...?” He slid his fingers under the hem of his shirt and started to push the waistband of his pants down.

“No!” I barked. Jared froze and cowered a little bit, and I tried to soften my voice. “No, that’s not what I’m... I just wanted to talk. I need to ask you some things.” Jared just waited, so I took a deep breath and tried to organise my thoughts. “You’re from Turoq.” It wasn’t a question, but Jared nodded slightly anyway. “So,” I went on, “Did Peters... did he kidnap you? Is your family out there looking for you?”

“No – no.” Jared looked distinctly uncomfortable with the conversation. “No, um, they’re not looking for me.”

“Okay.” I could tell that Jared wasn’t telling me something. “So, what happened? Can you tell me about it?”

Jared gave me a pleading look and I felt bad for forcing him to tell this story he obviously didn’t want to tell. But I needed to know, so I could figure out what to do next. Jared drew in a deep breath and began to speak.

“We were at the marketplace,’ he began. “Um, me and my mother, that is. One day. And Captain Peters was there, that’s where he saw me.”

“Okay.”

“And, um. He followed us. From the marketplace; we were going home. And when we got to a quiet street and no-one was nearby, he offered my mother, um. Some money.”

“He- what?” I couldn’t help the way my voice sharpened and grew louder. Jared shrank back and glanced up at me through his messy hair.

“It was a lot of money?” he offered, as though that made it okay.

“Your mother _sold_ you?”

Jared straightened his shoulders a little bit and met my gaze for a full second before he looked away. “She didn’t _want_ to!” he said. “They needed the money.”

“They couldn’t possibly have needed the money that badly!” It wasn’t as though this was the first time I had heard of such things happening. But I had never before met someone who had been through such a thing, and the bitter reality was hart to accept.

“My sister was sick.” Jared looked at his feet, and his fingers twisted in the hem of his shirt. “She was really sick, she needed medicine but they couldn’t afford it.”

With Jared’s words, I found myself less bothered by what his parents had done, and more by the fact that Jared didn’t seem to see the wrongness of it. “Jared – I’m sure your parents must have badly wanted to help your sister, but that doesn’t mean that it’s okay to just, toss you aside like that.”

“But it wasn’t just her!” Jared glanced up for a second, his eyes huge in his face. “My brother, my older brother, was ready to start an apprenticeship. But to get a good one, my parents couldn’t afford to pay. So, they’re both okay now. My sister will be well, and my brother will be in a good job. Captain Peters offered a lot of money, enough to pay for both.” Jared looked me in the face again, chewing his lip like he was judging my receptiveness. “He offered my mother fifty gold crowns. That’s a lot, isn’t it?”

Now, this was indeed a great deal of money. I had never heard of such a sum being paid for a slave before. It was so much that I had a hard time believing that what Jared said was true, but he spoke with such sincerity that I couldn’t bring myself to question him. “Yeah, that’s a lot of money, Jared.”

“It’s enough for a good apprenticeship? And for medicine?” Jared’s voice quavered uncertainly, and my chest wrenched painfully.

“Yeah, enough for all that and more.”

“So, you see, it was the right thing for them to do. They didn’t want to, but it was for the best.”

At this point, I wanted badly to continue arguing, but it occurred to me that the one thing helping Jared to cope with what had been done to him might be his ability to think of it as some kind of worthwhile sacrifice. Instead, I returned to the other issue I was concerned with.

“How old are you, Jared?”

Jared gave me a confused look, but answered without hesitation. “Sixteen. I think, sixteen. It’s not summer yet, is it?”

“No,” I said. “Not yet.”

“Sixteen, then.”

Out of curiosity, I asked, “How old were you when...” Your parents sold you, I wanted to say. “When Peters... found you?”

“Eleven.”

Eleven. I tried to imagine suffering as Jared had for five years, but couldn’t. I wondered if Jared would ever be able to have a normal life, after what had happened to him. “What do you want to do now, Jared?” I asked.

Jared looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean... you don’t belong to Peters anymore. So, what do you want to do?”

Jared’s brow furrowed ever so slightly. “But, now... I belong to you. You... I... don’t I?”

“No!” I exclaimed. Jared flinched away and I tried once again to calm myself. “Jared, I don’t... I don’t keep slaves, have slaves. You’re not, you’re not my slave.”

Jared turned his head from one side to the other, looking lost. “I don’t... but, then, where should I go?”

I could have strangled myself, because the whole conversation was going so wrong. “That’s not what I meant.” I took a deep breath and tried to gather my thoughts. “I wouldn’t just toss you off the ship at the first port, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Jared looked startled and I surmised that that was exactly what he had been thinking. I gritted my teeth and carried on. “If it’s what you want, there’s work for you aboard this ship. We’ll teach you what you need to know, you’ll get a share of the booty like the rest of the crew. But, we’re pirates. It’s a rough life. I thought, maybe, you’d have family that you’d want to go back to, but... well, anyway. Maybe you’d rather make a life for yourself on land. I can help you do that, if it’s what you want.”

Jared looked overwhelmed, and I guessed that I had overwhelmed him with too much information and too many options. This was probably the biggest decision he’d had to make in a long time. “You don’t have to make up your mind right now,” I said. “Take some time to think about it. We’ll arrive at our port the day after tomorrow, if you decide you want off this ship, I have friends there who can help you.”

Jared nodded but didn’t say anything, and I decided to let the matter rest for the time being. “What do you want me to do now?” Jared asked quietly.

I wanted to push Jared to think about what _he_ wanted to do, and base his decisions on that instead of what he thought other people wanted him to do, so I said, “Whatever you like. It’s our time for rest now, you can sleep some more if you wish, or go up on deck. Some of the crew are probably up there, playing cards. We could join them.”

Jared looked worried. “Do you want me to... join them?” he asked.

I remembered Jared from hours earlier, asking me if I was going to give him to the crew, so frightened he had to grip his own wrists to stop his hands shaking. My advice to Jared to consider his own wishes hadn’t sunk in, because Jared hadn’t even accepted that I wasn’t just going to toss him to the crew at the slightest whim. I decided that Jared should spend more time with the crew, to learn that they were decent people who wouldn’t hurt him.

“Come on,” I said. “You’ve met them all already anyway, let’s go see what they’re doing.”

The crew who weren’t on watch were sitting in an out of the way corner on deck. Chad was playing cards with Mike and Tom, and losing. Jim and Misha were playing chess; Jim was winning as usual, although Misha was concentrating on the game with a single minded ferocity that suggested he thought he really might win this time. It was mildly amusing because, although I knew Misha was an intelligent man, he wasn’t much of a chess player.

Mike offered to deal me in when I sat down, and glanced at Jared and back to me again. I considered and shook my head. Jared was as tense and nervous as he was when I first bought him aboard. Better to let him settle before asking him to play anything.

The game was poker. We bet pennies, because playing poker is one of the few ways to pass the time aboard the ship, and if we gambled for higher stakes some of the crew would have lost their share of booty before they even received it.

Playing with Mike and Tom is always frustrating; they know one another too well and tend to work together. Chad and I do not have any similar understanding, and the third time I folded and he turned out to have nothing more than a pair of threes, I scooped up my remaining money and begged out of the next hand. I glanced over to check on Jared, and found him sitting quietly and avidly watching Jim clean up the chess board.

Misha was down to three pawns, a knight and his king. Jim captured the knight and Misha sighed, slumping a little bit. Jim worked at cornering Misha, chasing his king around the board for a few turns before finally trapping him between two rooks and his queen. Jim looked at Jared and grinned a bit. “Want to play, kid?” he said. Jared jerked like he’d been caught doing something wrong, and looked away.

“No,” he said. “No, thank you.”

I saw Jared’s eyes flicker back towards the board, and was suddenly certain that Jared really did want to play. I shuffled over to nudge Jared’s shoulder with my own. “Go on,” I said, “Give it a try. Jim always wins anyway, no matter who he plays against.”

Jared turned slightly towards me, and lifted his head enough that he could look me in the face, although his eyes stayed lowered. I took it as a sign of trust anyway, and with remarkable self control managed to not stand up and dance. “I don’t know how,” Jared whispered softly. I think that Jared means the words for me alone, but Jim overheard.

“We’ve all gotta start somewhere, kid,” he said. “I can show you what to do.” He gathered the pieces and started arranging them on the board. “You can have the black pieces,” he said. “That means I have the white pieces, and go first.” He finished setting up the game, and pointed to the row of white pieces in front of him. “These little ones are pawns,” he said. “They can only move forwards, and only one square at a time. But, just the first time, you can move them two squares, if you want.” He selected one of his pawns, and moved it two spaces forward. “Your turn,” said Jim.

It took Jared a moment, but he reached a hand out towards his side of the chess board. He held it in midair for a few seconds, like he was waiting for someone to tell him no. He reached for one of the pawns, before hesitating and moving his hand away. He moved back and forth a few times, before Jim nodded impatiently. “Yes, yes,” he said. “You’ve got the idea. That’s a good place to start.” Jared’s hand moved back to the first pawn, and he nudged it forward two squares.

I watched as the game went on. I’ve never been very skilled at chess myself, but I found myself becoming absorbed. Jim explained the way each piece moved, introducing new moves gradually, and gently informing Jared when he’d made a move which is unwise or against the rules. The first few times Jared unwittingly made an illegal move, I could see him trembling like he expected – I wasn’t sure what. Nothing good. Jim quietly suggested alternative moves to Jared and explained why each one was beneficial. I picked up a few tricks to use myself next time I played chess with Jim.

They played for around ten minutes and Jim slowly captured one of Jared’s pieces after another. It was a couple of minutes before Jared took any of Jim’s pieces, even though he had opportunity to. Watching Jared’s intent expression, I realised that Jared was deliberately letting those opportunities go. Jim caught on at the same time; made Jared reverse his last move and capture his pawn instead. Jared closed his fingers around the white piece tightly. I could see the way his hand shook, and I could tell Jim noticed as well. Jared sat the pawn by the side of the board, and Jim carried on with his move.

Next time one of Jim’s pieces was left vulnerable, he pointed it out to Jared before he moved. He did the same thing the next two times after that. The third time, Jared slid his queen over to capture Jim’s rook without being prompted, and Jim and I exchanged a pleased glance.

The game didn’t last much longer after that; Jim checkmated Jared a few moves later and straightened up with a grin. “Good game, kid,” he said. Jared twitched and didn’t reply. I think he didn’t know how to. “Want to play again?” Jim asked. After a moment’s pause Jared gave a shaky nod.

Jim scooped the two kings up, covering them in one hand and then passing one of them to the other. He held his closed hands out to Jared, and said, “Choose.” Jared didn’t move, but his gaze flickered back and forth and his eyes were huge, like the fate of the world rested on his decision. Eventually I couldn’t stand it anymore and leant over to nudge Jared gently with my shoulder. “Just pick one,” I said softly. “It doesn’t matter.” Jared pointed to Jim’s left hand and he opened it to reveal the white king. They set up the board and Jim reminded Jared that he had to move first. For a few minutes I thought Jim might have to tell Jared which piece to move as well, but at last Jared decided on his own, and the game took off.

The game moved much more quickly this time; Jim wasn’t explaining the rules and he wasn’t making it as easy for Jared either. I thought Jim was still holding back some, but when Jared captured Jim’s queen and I saw Jim’s expression of shock, I realised I was wrong. Jared noticed too, and tried to put the queen back on the board, but Jim grabbed his wrist. “Don’t do that,” he said. “Good move, kid. That was a good move.”

A few turns later Jim managed to checkmate Jared again and they packed the game away. Jim watched Jared with a measuring gaze which told me far more than my rudimentary chess skills had managed to.

The rest of the day passed quietly, and in much the same manner. I showed Jared a number of the tasks the sailors were responsible for, and had the rest of the crew show him other things. If Jared was going to decide to remain on my ship, he would know what kind of work he was getting into and the people he would be working with. During the last Dog’s Watch, when I was off duty, I hunted up some spare blankets and put together a makeshift bed on the floor of my cabin. Although I had seen Jared becoming more and more at ease all day, I knew he wasn’t ready yet to share quarters with the rest of the crew. As Jared relaxed more, it was easier for the rest of us to forget to treat him with delicacy, until we crossed some line and he reacted in a way we didn’t expect. So, from the way Jared cringed when Mike gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder, the way he tensed up when Chad had a friendly argument with Tom and told the other man to suck his... well, you get the idea... I knew better than to expect him to sleep in the hold.

Jared, of course, refused to take my bunk while I slept on the floor. Well, no, refused is not the right word. Jared wouldn’t refuse to do anything I told him to do, and I knew this, so I gruffly ordered him into the bunk and tried to make myself comfortable on the hard pallet. After half an hour of trying to sleep with Jared lying a few feet away, taut with tension and barely breathing, I sat up and insisted that we change places.

We could have shared again, but I judged that that would be a bad idea.

Very early, before morning watch started, I roused myself and tried to light the lamp so I could check our route while the stars were still out. It flickered weakly and I found that the oil was quite low. Still, the dim light was enough to rouse Jared, who sat up from his pallet, blinking slowly.

“Good morning!” I said cheerfully. “You can sleep a little longer if you want. I’m just going to go get some more lamp oil. Seems like we’ve gone through it really fast.”

The lamp was casting a soft yellow light over the room, but it wasn’t enough to give colour to Jared’s ashen face. “I’m sorry,” he said shakily. “I shouldn’t have, I knew it was wrong, but I was s-scared-“

Crap, I thought. Not again. “It’s okay,” I said. “Really, whatever is on your mind, it’s not... have you been using the lamp? It’s fine.”

“I took...” Jared shook so hard he nearly fell over. “I took some oil. I’m sorry.” Jared’s eyes were glassy, and he seemed on the verge of tears.

“It’s really fine,” I said, confused. “Um... you took some oil? Why? Not that I mind,” I added quickly, for all the good it did.

“I used some of it,” said Jared. He sniffled. “You know. To get ready. I’m sorry.”

“To... get ready? Wha-“ I broke off when I finally figured it out. I could have kicked myself for being so slow. “Oh,” I said. “ _Ohhh_. Jared... you really didn’t have to do that.”

Jared nodded rapidly. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “It was wrong and I knew it was stealing, but I was afraid because when I don’t use something, it _hurts_ , but that doesn’t matter, I shouldn’t have done that when you didn’t tell me to. I’m-“

“Please,” I said. “Please don’t... don’t apologise.” I had, of course, prior to this, no compunction about ending Peters’ life should I ever see him again, but I think it was at this moment that the desire to end his life myself took hold in me.

I crouched down so that I didn’t tower over Jared, and tried once again to get through to him. “Jared, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not... I’m not going to rape you. No one on this ship is going to rape you. They’re not like that; if they were I wouldn’t have them on my ship. You’re safe here. Do you believe me?”

Jared nodded, and mumbled a “Yes, sir,” but I still doubted that he really understood. It took a long time, and a lot of reassurance, before he did. Two years after the events recorded here, when I thought Jared healed and whole, we had an argument over something stupid, I don’t even remember what. Afterwards, when Jared came to me and kissed me, I didn’t understand at first what he was doing. I was still a little angry, curt and not very receptive to him. His advances became more persistent and more desperate the more I pushed him away, until I saw them for what they were; not just a reaction to fear and disapproval, but the only way Jared knew to cope with the perceived loss of affection.

But in any case, the immediate crisis was averted for the time being. We headed out to stand our watch, and I predicted that we would reach our port a little before noon. We began to see other ships and boats as we grew nearer to land, and then gulls and other birds. The weather had been mild but began to worsen as the day neared midmorning; the wind grew stronger and the seas rougher. The ship began to pitch and toss, not too severely, but enough that I had my hands full at the helm, and had to summon Mike to man it with me.

From the helm, we could see Chris, who had just come on deck for his watch, trimming sail with Jared’s help. Chris had coaxed Jared aloft for the first time, although they went only high enough to reach the lowest level of sail. Jared moved out along the spar, securing the sail slowly and methodically. He moved slower than Chris, but didn’t seem unduly bothered by the height, although I was too far away to really tell. They descended the rigging together, side by side. About halfway down, Jared slipped somehow. I didn’t see exactly what happened; it appeared that his foot just missed the loop, and in his fright one hand lost its grip on the rigging. I gasped; they were not too far above the deck and even if Jared did fall he would likely be fine, but I was worried. Chris grabbed Jared by the shirt and held him steady until he grasped the ropes securely once more. They climbed the rest of the way down without incident, Chris hovering by Jared’s side ready to catch him if need be.

I didn’t breathe easily until they were safely on deck once more. I heaved a sigh as their feet touched wood, quietly I thought, but the knowing look Mike sent my way informed me that that was not so.

“What?” I asked irritably.

“Nothing, sir, nothing at all.”

I could see Jared and Chris talking. They were too far away for me to hear them, but Jared seemed upset and Chris seemed concerned. I could see Jared speaking quickly, his shoulders hunched, while Chris occasionally said a few words. Chris reached up to lay a hand on Jared’s shoulder; when it made contact Jared flinched away and nearly fell. Chris looked around and caught my eye. He set his jaw and came my way, leading Jared by the arm. As they grew near I could hear Jared mumbling apologies and Chris trying to hush him.

“Are you two alright?” I asked.

“We’re fine,” said Chris. “Fine. Really.” He addressed this last to Jared, who didn’t appear to hear him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall. Sorry.”

Chris and I exchanged a concerned glance, while Mike looked on, puzzled. I decided I needed to get Jared somewhere quiet. “Come on, Jared,” I said, “We’re off duty. Chris, would you take the wheel?”

I led Jared to my cabin, uncomfortably aware of the way he grew more and more anxious. He had grown silent, but had the demeanour of a man bound for the gallows. I shut the cabin door behind us and looked at Jared. His gaze was fixed on the floor and his hands still shook slightly.

“That must have given you a fright,” I said softly. My words broke Jared out of his silence.

“’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t... it was an accident.”

“Of course it was,” I said. “It was the first time up the rigging, you didn’t mean to slip. I know, it’s, it’s scary at first, but you get used to it.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I could have... if I’d knocked Chris... er...”

“Oh, no,” I said. “You wouldn’t have... Chris has been up and down these masts half his life. Trust me, you couldn’t knock him from the rigging, not if you tried. He was teaching you, it was his job to look out for you.”

“But I fell,” said Jared. “That was... Captain Peters would have been so... I...”

“Jared,” I said helplessly. I wished I could find the right words to make Jared understand. He was being so hard on himself over such a small thing.

“I’ll apologise,” said Jared. “To, to Chris. Er. I’ll make it right, whatever you want. Please, let me make it up...” Jared turned his pleading gaze on me, and I felt my will dissolve. I fancied it was a reasonable idea. Let Jared go try to apologise to Chris, and let him see that Chris wasn’t angry with him in the slightest. Perhaps reassurances would mean more coming from Chris than from me.

“Do I have to go now?” Jared asked, a glimmer of fear showing in his eyes. “He’s on deck, working, I don’t want to interrupt...”

“Of course not,” I said. “Jared, you don’t owe anyone an apology at all, but if it will make you feel better, then go whenever it suits you.”

Jared seemed to accept that, nodding quickly. “Why don’t you get a bit more rest,” I suggested. “We’ll be arriving soon, and I need to go see to a few things.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I left Jared in the cabin and didn’t give the incident much thought until an hour and a half later, when Chris appeared while I was doing a final inventory of our cargo, and, without preamble, punched me in the face with a right hook.

“Ow!” I said, incredulous at first. A moment later, I continued with, “What the _fuck_ , Chris?”

“I should be asking you that!” Chris replied, furiously. “What the fuck? I was at the stern and that boy of yours appeared out of nowhere and tried to tell me he was sorry...”

“That was his idea!” I objected loudly. “I thought it would make him feel better!”

“And when he got on his knees and tried to suck my dick, was that supposed to make him feel better too?” Chris spat.

“He did... what?”

Chris looked at me, seeming to deflate when he sensed my complete bewilderment. “Like I said,” Chris explained, more calmly. “Jared came up to me, where I was working at the stern. He said he was ever so sorry, I tried to tell him he didn’t have anything to be sorry for, and then he tried to take my pants off.”

“Oh.” The idea was completely shocking, but as I thought about it, I realised that I should have seen this coming. I cursed myself for a fool. “Chris, what did you do?”

“What do you mean?” Chris asked, offended. “I didn’t _let_ him, if that’s what you’re asking!”

“No!” I cried. “I mean, what did you say to him? Where did he go?”

“Oh...” Chris’s scowl melted away and his face sagged as he realised that he’d left Jared, probably upset and confused, with no explanation. He most likely had no idea what had happened.

We hurried back down the length of the ship, asking after Jared every time we crossed someone’s path. Eventually, Steve pointed us back to my cabin and said Jared had headed that way. We walked over, and once we reached the door I looked at Chris.

“I should go in alone,” I said. “We don’t want to overwhelm him.”

Chris nodded at that, and agreed to wait outside. I entered the room, trying to look non-threatening. Jared seemed different from before. Just as nervous, but he paced in the tiny space between the bed and the wall, shaking his head slightly as he went.

“Jared?” I asked tentatively when he didn’t react to my entrance.

Jared looked at me then, and I have never seen anyone look as lost as he did. His eyes flickered back and forth, and he chewed on his bottom lip. “I don’t...” he began. His voice cracked. “I don’t know what to do! Please, won’t you tell me... I don’t know...”

“Jared,” I repeated, “Just be calm.”

“I can’t,” Jared muttered. “Can’t. Can’t. It’s... It’s all wrong. I’m... all...”

I took Jared by the shoulders. “It’s okay, Jared, really,” I said. “Whatever’s on your mind, I promise it’s going to be okay.”

Jared shook under my hands, and leaned so that I took part of his weight. “Why... why don’t you... I’ve done... everything wrong...”

“Jared...”

“I was sick! All over your floor! I _stole_ from you! I messed up that knot, even though you showed me twice, and I broke a bowl and talked back, and then I _fell_ and I could have, could have knocked Chris down, but you don’t punish me, and Peters would have... he would have...” Jared paled and he swallowed convulsively. “He would have been so _furious_ , he would have flogged me or given me to the crew, or just, I don’t know, and why don’t you?” The last few words came out as a sob. Jared swayed and nearly fell; I caught him and put my arms more firmly around him.

“Is that what you want?” I asked incredulously.

“I can’t take the waiting. Please don’t make me wait anymore. I’m sorry.”

“Jared, if I thought you’d done anything to be punished for, I’d give you extra duties like I would for the rest of the crew. What Peters did to you... he was wrong. Don’t you know that? He was wrong. I’m not like him.”

A light tap sounded at the door, and Chris’s voice came through it softly. “Sorry to interrupt, thought you’d want to know we’re coming in to port.”

“Thanks, Chris,” I called back. “I’ll be out in five minutes, okay?”

Jared had stiffened and pulled away slightly at the interruption. “Are you going to put me off the ship?” he asked quietly.

“No,” I said.

“You said you knew people here, that I might stay here...”

“Of course, if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll understand. You wouldn’t want... I’m no good. Nothing but trouble.”

“Jared, that’s not true.”

“I helped them. My brother and sister. By going away, that’s how... and I’m not a good, not a good sailor. I can’t be on your crew, and you won’t. Won’t,” Jared’s lips curled back in an ugly grimace. “You won’t _use_ me. So, I can’t. I’m no good here. It’s okay. You’ve done so much, I could never repay...”

“Jared, stop. I don’t... I want you to stay. I don’t want you to go. I didn’t say that before because I didn’t want you to do something contrary to what you wanted, just because you felt obligated to me.”

Jared looked a bit confused at my sudden outburst, but eventually said slowly, “You want me to stay?”

“Yes. Yes, Jared, if that’s what... If you’re okay with it, then please. I want you to stay.”

Jared still looked doubtful. “I can’t pull my weight, I don’t know enough...”

“No, Jared, listen.” I struggled to find the right words. “You know, it’s not usually so hard. Not for most people.”

Jared nodded glumly, and I continued. “I mean, most people, they learn something new and they make mistakes. They don’t think anything of it. They just... accept that they’re not perfect at it yet. But not you.” I glanced sharply at Jared, who was listening intently. “Every time some little thing goes wrong, you commit it to memory, and you add it to the list of every other thing you’ve ever done wrong, don’t you?” Jared didn’t react to that, and I didn’t wait for him to. “See, that’s not... it’s Peters. He taught you that you have to do everything perfectly, all the time. How did you really get that scar on your wrist?”

Jared rubbed his thumb over it. “I knocked the Captain’s lamp. It nearly fell off the table. I caught it, but he was angry. He pressed my hand against the glass.”

I nodded. “See, and think how many mistakes I’ve made since we met! I’ve done so many things wrong. I didn’t talk to you enough. Do you forgive me?”

“I...” In his surprise, Jared forgot to be anxious. “No! I mean, ye- you didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know...” He trailed off, and I could see he’d taken my point.

“That’s right,” I said. “It’s a new situation for us both. There’s lots of things we don’t know. Still, I’ll try to not make that mistake again.”

I could feel the ship lurch as she bumped against the dock, and voices on deck indicated that we had arrived at our destination.

“We’re going to have to go,” I said, “We’ve reached port.”

Jared nodded, looking worried. Impulsively, I gripped his hand in mine. “Stay by me,” I said. “Everything will be fine. We’re going to stay at an inn run by a friend. We’ll be able to bathe, and eat decent food for a change. Here,” I placed in Jared’s hand five silver crowns. “It’s not a full share, but you’ve worked hard for the past two days, and you deserve something.”

Jared looked down at the coins, frowning. “This is too much for two days work.”

“Think of it as an advance,” I cajoled. “There are things you’re going to need, and now you’ll be able to buy them.” I would have been just as happy to pay for whatever Jared needed myself, but I felt that this might be an important part of helping Jared see himself as his own person, not as my property.

We headed out on deck, and followed the rest of the crew off the ship. I stepped onto the dock, feeling the moment when the ground felt strangely solid after weeks of being at sea. Jared was not as prepared for the change as I was, and he swayed before collapsing. I caught his arm as he fell, and managed to break his fall slightly. I helped Jared back to his feet, encouraging him to lean on my shoulder. He did so with a sheepish glance, his face burning red.

“I guess it’s been a while since you were on land,” I said. Jared nodded.

“Yes,” he said. “It’s been a while.”

Before we went to book rooms at the Narwhal, I decided we should visit the bathhouse. I regularly used one just a few minutes’ walk from the docks, and I led Jared that way, taking the time as we went to explain how we would trade the goods we had for more supplies.

When we arrived, the bathhouse was mostly deserted, which was a relief. We paid for two tubs, and I noticed Jared fingering a silver crown for a minute before handing it over. He counted the copper coins he received in change with a furrowed brow. The tubs were filled, and I showed Jared how he could draw the curtain around his for privacy if he wished. Examining Jared’s nervous face, I pulled the curtain partly across, so that Jared was shielded from the rest of the room, but could still see me.

I turned my back as I undressed. I had never felt the need for such modesty before, but I didn’t want to put Jared under any pressure to offer sexual favours, however unintentionally. I sat down in my tub and began washing the grime from my skin. It was pleasant to be able to get really clean. I hummed softly to myself. I could hear rustling behind me as Jared removed his own clothes, and then nothing. I looked back over my shoulder.

Jared was standing at the edge of the tub, but had made no move to get in. I had seen under his shirt the day before, but I wasn’t quite prepared for what I saw, even so. As I had suspected, the scars ran down his back to his waist, across his buttocks and down his thighs to the backs of his knees. They were thickest at his shoulders and buttocks, but he was well covered all over. His arms and legs were covered with bruises, some old and yellow, others still deep purple. Some I judged to have been made by roughly gripping hands, others by knocking into things. Jared’s hips stuck out as much as his ribs. His shoulder blades were far too clearly defined. All in all, he was a sorry sight.

After a few moments studying the bathtub, Jared turned to look at me from the corner of his eye and caught me staring. I flushed, but not as deeply red as Jared did. He turned away, hunching his shoulders, but made no move to cover himself. I turned to face forwards again, feeling ashamed.

“The water’s nice,” I said. “Hop in.”

I heard the light splash as Jared settled himself in the tub and began to wash. He didn’t speak, but after several minutes I heard a soft sigh and knew that he found the warm water as pleasant as I did. I wondered how long it had been since Jared had been able to get really clean. While at sea, we got used to washing irregularly, but Jared had been a bit dirtier and smellier than the rest of us. I learned later on that Peters had only troubled to let Jared wash when he grew filthy enough to prevent Peters enjoying him.

We finished bathing a short time later and got out of the tubs to dry off. I was relieved to be able to put on the clean clothes I had brought with me, but I realised that Jared had only the one set of clothing, which he had been wearing for who knew how long. I could see from Jared’s expression that he found the prospect as unappealing as I did, though he didn’t complain. I resolved that our next task should be to purchase some new clothes, and so we headed to the markets.

We found easily enough a stall selling second hand clothing suitable for our needs, and we picked through the offerings to find something which would fit. It was not simple; as thin as he was, Jared was still fairly tall, and I suspected that with more food, he would grow rapidly, so I made sure to search for clothing which had growing room. Eventually, we had all we needed. Jared paid with the copper coins he’d received at the bathhouse, and he fingered the remaining four coins thoughtfully. One of our purchases had been a coin pouch, and Jared dropped the remaining money into it.

At last, we made the walk to the _Narwhal_ , and I led Jared inside, introducing him to the innkeeper Sam. Jeff was already there, wearing a clean shirt and with his hair neatly combed. Sam studiously ignored him from behind her desk.

“Good afternoon, Sam!” I said cheerily.

“Jensen,” she replied. Her lips curved into a brief smile.

“This is Jared,” I said. “We’ll need a room for two nights.”

“Just the one?” she asked.

“Yes. With two beds.”

Jared offered to pay for half the room, and after brief consideration, I accepted. I was pleased that Jared was making efforts to assert his independence; although I could tell from the way he constantly fiddled with his coin pouch that he found the responsibility daunting. We were given a key and I led Jared upstairs so that he could put his purchases down and change his clothes. That done, we headed down again to get a light lunch, and then went out to conduct our business in port.

Jared mostly watched and listened as I bartered with traders to get the best price on the goods we had to sell, and in the early evening I could tell that he was growing tired. I concluded my last deal and we made our way back to the inn, eating our dinner there. When we went upstairs to sleep I lay awake for hours, unable to rest without the soothing motion of the ship lulling me. I’m sure when I finally drifted off, Jared was still awake.

Although I kept an eye out for places that were looking for workers, and I tried to get Jared to see the many other options available to him which would give him a more comfortable life than piracy, he seemed determined to stay with me and the _Black Gazelle_. I was secretly elated at this decision, and felt terribly guilty to be so pleased by it. I knew I should want something safer and more settled for him. However, after I introduced Jared to a shipbuilder I vaguely knew, and he reacted with barely concealed terror, I decided to leave well enough alone. Fair enough, the man looked rather fearsome, all bulging muscle and wild black hair, but I realised that, although Jared seemed more comfortable around me and the rest of the crew, and even, to a lesser extent, Sam and Alona, he still had very little trust in other people. When the time came for us to leave port, I don’t think I imagined Jared’s relief.

We were busy for the next few weeks. We carried out several successful raids. I took seriously the responsibility of teaching Jared the skills of a sailor. He grew more confident scaling the rigging, although I could tell he avoided the highest levels if he could. He became adept at the many small tasks necessary for maintenance of the ship and the weapons we had aboard. In our spare moments, I taught Jared to wield a cutlass, and Jim and Misha between them helped Jared catch up on the schooling he’d missed. Jim also continued to teach Jared chess, something I think he regretted when Jared checkmated him during their seventh game.

In short, Jared quickly became such a part of the crew that it was a great shock when we were reminded of the manner in which he had come among us. One sunny afternoon, we rounded the southern tip of an island we thought deserted, only to spy another ship within hailing distance.

The figurehead was a woman with a snake twined about her. We were too far off to read the ship’s name, but upon sighting us, the ship turned and bought her guns to bear on us. A figure standing at the prow cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted to us.

“Captain Ackles! Captain Ackles, you have something of mine, and I want it back.”

Beside me, Jared shuddered violently. “It’s _him_ ,” he said. “It’s Captain Peters.”

“How did he find us?” I wondered absently. There were a lot of questions I could have asked, like how he had managed to get out of the predicament we had left him in, and found himself another ship and crew. More pressing was the question of what we should do now he had confronted us. I gave orders swiftly to the rest of the crew, who manoeuvred the _Gazelle_ into a defensive position, and then I called back to Peters. “I’ve nothing of yours, Peters. Be on your way.”

We had drifted a little closer together, and I could see the smirk on the other Captain’s face. “You know what I’m speaking of, Ackles. Hand the boy over, and no one needs to get hurt.”

Jared shifted uneasily beside me. “Jensen...”

“Don’t even say it.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“And I don’t want you hurt either.” I raised my voice so Peters could hear me. “You’re in range of our guns, Peters, and I won’t hesitate to fire, but if you want Jared so badly I can’t imagine you’ll be so willing to fire on us. Back down.”

At that, Peters gestured abruptly to one of his men, who tended to the nearest cannon and fired upon us. We had time to duck out of the way and avoid the worst of the impact; I barked commands to the crew who returned fire. Studying the other ship, I judged the cannons to be of lesser quality and shorter range than the _Gazelle’s_ , and so I set Chris and Steve to pulling our ship away from the other to make the most of this advantage. We exchanged fire for some minutes, and Peters did some damage to our rigging with chain shot – two iron balls joined by a chain, designed to destroy rigging and sails. With our speed so reduced, I let us draw closer to the other ship, and ordered our guns loaded double. They were less accurate this way, but at close range that didn’t matter so much. Our fire opened several holes in the other ship’s hull. Several of the cannons were aimed low, and the ship began to take in water.

The next volley of fire from Peter’s ship was wrapped in canvas, soaked in pitch and set alight. The burning darts struck the deck and caught in our sails. I cursed Peters for a fool as the flames licked at the wood. Short minutes later, as I had predicted, the ships drew close enough to leap from one deck to the other. If Peters meant to burn my ship, he was risking his own as well.

Several of Peter’s men crossed the gap from their ship to ours, shouting and brandishing their blades. The crew dealt with them handily, and looked back to me to see whether I would have them advance to the other ship. I considered, and led them onwards with a cry. I confess my motivation was less than reasonable; if it were possible, I wanted to end Peter’s life with my own hand.

In the end, our aggression proved to be a wise move. I suspect that Peters had, out of urgency to come after us, hired any able bodied man he could find. The men had no particular loyalty to him and no willingness to put themselves in harm’s way for his sake. When it became clear that we were winning the battle, most of the men put down their weapons and surrendered. We corralled our captives at the stern of the ship and I set Misha and Tom to watch over them.

The battle continued at the prow of the ship, but Peters’ side was much diminished. Peters himself remained, alongside two other men. As I and my crew encircled them, the other two men stayed their swords, recognising the hopelessness of their situation. Peters, however, stilled but raised his cutlass higher, as though he meant only to catch his breath before taking on every one of us.

“You’re a madman,” I hissed. “You’re outmatched, Peters, give in.”

He looked at me with an ugly grin on his face. “And make it easy for you?” he asked. “You mean to kill me, no matter what I do. Don’t deny it.”

I couldn’t, for it was the truth. I hefted my own sword. “You should never have come after us,” I said resignedly.

Peters shook his head. “You took something that belonged to me,” he said. “I paid fifteen gold crowns for the whelp. He’s mine.”

“No!” I growled, stepping forward. “You’re wrong. And I may be a thief, but I’m not like you. I’ve never taken anything that can’t be replaced. Damn you for what you’ve done.”

I raced forward and our blades met in a mighty clash. We fought furiously for long minutes, both desperate to win. I was less tired than Peters, but he was fighting for survival, which seemed to give him a strength which did not ebb. I looked for weaknesses in his defence, noticing the way he dropped his shoulder and guard as he stepped forward, the way he turned as he prepared to strike, which gave him more power but slowed him down and left gaps in his guard.

Gradually, I let him become more and more overconfident. A fumble here, a missed opportunity there. With each new attack, Peters took greater risks. As he parried my thrust, I feigned to overbalance and left a tempting opening. I could see him raise his sword above his head to deliver a killing strike, and, as swiftly as I could, I flicked my own sword up, driving it up through his stomach, past his ribs and through his heart.

I could see the life go from his eyes. He looked at me in sullen disbelief, the shock in the lines of his face slowly easing away as his eyes clouded and his body slumped. I let him drop to the deck, watching closely until I was sure that he was really dead. The silence from the rest of the crew seemed heavy, impenetrable, as though we had been present for something bigger than words.

Mike, of course, was the first to speak. “Don’t forget to check his pockets, Jensen. Remember that guy who tried to knife you, and after you gutted him you dropped him into the bay, and later we found out about the diamonds in his jacket...”

That seemed to break the spell, and the men returned to their usual heckling and bickering. I myself looked at the two remaining men from Peters crew and wondered what to do with them. One was older, and spat on the deck as he caught my gaze. The other was perhaps twenty years old, and looked as though his entire world had been shattered. I had not had time earlier to take much notice of him, but now I did the resemblance was clear. This was Peters’ son, his real son. He was dressed in a fine red jacket trimmed with lace, with soft leather boots on his feet. He was looking at his fallen father with an expression of deep grief.

I looked around and my gaze fell on Jared a few yards away. He was looking at nothing in particular, not Peters or his son or the other man. His gaze was actually directed at the waves lapping at the beach of the nearby island. I crossed the deck to stand beside him.

“Jared,” I said. I had to repeat his name twice more before he looked at me. “Do you know these men?”

He looked over to the two men currently being held under close guard. He shifted closer to me, almost imperceptibly. I was still elated at the sign of trust. “That’s Thomas Attis,” he whispered. “The quartermaster.” The so named Thomas saw us conversing and leered. My grip tightened on the hilt of my sword.

“And the boy?” I asked.

Jared swallowed. “That’s Jacob,” he said. “Jacob Peters.”

I looked the two men over once more and felt my temper rise. “I ought to kill them both,” I growled.

“No!” said Jared. “No, please. Attis... you can do what you like with him, I don’t care, but Jacob... Jacob was...” Jared fell silent and seemed at a loss for words to adequately explain himself.

“Did he help you?” I asked.

“Yes...” said Jared. “Well, no... not... sort of...”

I didn’t really understand them. I have a better idea now, and if I had known then what I know now, I would have been tempted to give Jacob a much slower death than I gave his father. From Peters’ constant cruelty, Jared learned to think of himself as worthless. But from Jacob’s treatment, of kindness and friendship one day and harshness and hostility the next, Jared learned to blame himself for everything that was done to him. Still, from what I understand, the two men got what they deserved in the end.

After some consideration, we decided to leave the two men stranded on the nearby island. We provided them with the means to fish and make fire, as it became clear that Jared understood doing otherwise meant a slow agonising death, and he would not stand for it. Instead, we resolved to inform the Persagian authorities of their whereabouts at the next opportunity. We patched up the _Gazelle_ enough to reach the nearest port where we could do more extensive repairs, and set sail.

During the voyage, I found Jared in my cabin, sitting on the bunk and staring at the floor. He had seemed out of sorts all day, which I had put down to the confrontation and its fallout, but this was when I began to suspect there was more to it. I sat beside him, and quietly asked what was wrong.

“Do you remember what Peters said?” he asked.

“Uh...” I tried to think exactly what Jared could be referring to.

“He said, he paid for me, fifteen gold crowns.”

“Oh, yes,” I said. I wasn’t sure at first what exactly had bothered Jared so much, but it came to me in a rush as Jared went on.

“I was sure he said... but I must have heard him wrong. Stupid of me. I should have known better, no one would pay that much for a slave. All this time...”

“Jared...” I was so lost for anything I could say that would give Jared comfort. It was true; when Peters had said he had paid fifteen crowns, it was so much more reasonable a sum than fifty that I hadn’t even remembered what Jared had originally said. It was strange to think that Jared had taken comfort from such a thing, but one look at his downcast face revealed that he had been doing exactly that all this time.

“Would fifteen gold crowns be enough to buy medicine?” Jared asked, hesitantly, like he was afraid of the answer.

“Well...” I began, “I’m not really sure. I suppose it would depend what kind of medicine it was, and how much she needed.”

“What about an apprenticeship, would it be enough for that?”

“Uh...” I tried to think. “Maybe. I mean, not a really good apprenticeship with someone really renowned, but it should be enough for something decent.”

“But it wouldn’t be enough for both, would it?”

I paused long then, not wanting to answer, but I knew Jared expected honesty of me. “Probably not, Jared. I’m sorry.”

Jared bit his lip, and his fingers dug into the blankets. He breathed in deeply, and expelled the breath with a furious rush of words. “It was never about the money at all!” he cried angrily. “They didn’t want to help Jeff and Megan, they just wanted to be rid of me!”

I put my hand on Jared’s shoulder, trying to offer comfort, but he shook me off angrily, continuing to shout. “If they wanted money so much, they could have got it another way!” he exclaimed. “If they’d cared about me, they _would_ have found another way!” Jared’s eyes brimmed with tears, and as he gulped for air, they spilled down his cheeks. “Was I so awful that they had to give me away?” he asked me desperately. I shook my head, helpless to come up with an adequate answer. “What could I have done wrong that was so awful that I deserved that?” he asked.

I replied, “Nothing, Jared, you did nothing,” but he didn’t hear me.

“Please, please tell me what I do wrong,” he said. “Don’t send me away, I can do better if you just tell me what I do wrong. I’m sorry.” Jared sobbed so heavily that I couldn’t understand what he was saying anymore. I couldn’t bear it, and wrapped my arms around him, pulling him to my chest.

“I’ll never send you away,” I promised. “There’s nothing you could do that would make me send you away, not ever.”

Jared leaned against me for a long time, until the front of my shirt was soaked through with tears. As his crying eased, I loosened my hold on him, and he straightened. He met my gaze wonderingly for a minute, before leaning forward and pressing his lips to mine.

For several seconds I allowed the kiss, then gently I pulled away. I looked at Jared’s face to see a light flush colour his pale cheeks. “You don’t want me...” he mumbled. I tightened my grip when he would have pulled away.

“I do,” I said. “I do, very much, but not like this. Not when you’re upset, and you think you have to do what I want so I don’t send you away. When you’re happy, and you know I’ll love you even if you never touch me again, that’s when I want you to kiss me.”

Jared wiped at his face, looking confused. “That seems contradictory,” he said. “You only want me to touch you when I don’t want to touch you?”

“Just the opposite,” I said. “I only want you to touch me if it’s because you want to touch me. Not because you’re afraid, or you feel obliged, but just because you want to, and no other reason.”

Jared nodded, the sort of automatic nod one gives when one doesn’t really understand. I smiled at him. “I’ll show you,” I said. “I’ll teach you. I’ll have you following your own whims in no time.”

Jared smiled, or at least the corners of his mouth turned up. “I’m not sure you will,” he said quietly.

“Oh?” I said. “Is there nothing you want, even now? Peters is dead and you’re a free man. We can go anywhere, and do anything.”

“I want...” for a second, Jared seemed as surprised by his words as I was. “I want to go... to go home. I want to see my brother and sister, and see if they’re alright.”

“Are you... sure?” I asked stupidly. The first thing Jared had ever asked for, I nearly tried to talk him out of.

“I’m sure,” said Jared. “I want to know what happened to them. I’ll never be able to stop wondering about them.”

We did, eventually, find Jared’s family. And, eventually, one fairly unremarkable day, Jared approached me at the helm, and smiled, and kissed me on the lips while Chad made lewd comments. And over time, the little doubts Jared continued to carry were dispelled one by one as he healed from his past. But that’s really part of another story, and not really related to the defeat of the notorious Captain Peters at all, which is what this account is plainly about. Still, I think I’ll keep this tale private, and write a more abbreviated one for public sharing. No, I certainly didn’t get sidetracked, Chris, I simply think these events could be recounted more concisely. And if you snicker one more time, I’ll have you tossed overboard.

The End

 

 


End file.
